Playing with Fire
by grimmfeather
Summary: A scorching summer's day spells trouble for all involved. Katsura, Gin, and the Shinsengumi forcibly negotiate their differences. Humor/Action/Drama
1. Ignition

-Playing with Fire-

--**Ignition**--

"Oi, Zura, you _still_ smell like a girl," Gintoki muttered rather moodily as he crept down a back alley and around the corner of another warehouse, accompanied by none other than Edo's friendly neighborhood terrorist. _It figures that I'd be the one to get dragged along on another of Zura's glory-trips. . ._ Gin's patience was already worn ragged, as he'd gotten a negligible amount of sleep the night before, woken up with a hangover, and missed the release of _Jump_ in the morning. That was the icing on the cake. Not to mention the fact that Ketsuno Ana had predicted today would be a record-setting scorcher of a summer day. Heat has knack for grating on people's nerves the way that sand sticks to you at the beach. _No matter what you do, you can't escape its evil clutches. . ._, Gin mused crossly. _Gah, the heat's already getting to me!_

"It's not 'Zura'; it's 'manly Katsura'!" Zura snapped back, feeling a little testy himself.

As a result of Gintoki's incessant protests and dawdling, Katsura had them running just _barely_ on schedule with the mission's timetable. A couple hours previously, the pair had succeeded in disabling the latest shipment of Amanto firearms, having sneaked into the main warehouse and spent the better part of the morning shoving bubblegum up the barrels and into the cylinders of some 300-odd pistols. However, if they didn't hurry, they were certain to miss the timeslot for the appointed rendezvous with the other Jouishishi members in the area. Past noon, which was rapidly approaching, the warehouse district was swamped with guards and workers who facilitated the loading of the cargo into distributor trucks to be transported around Edo.

If everything proceeded smoothly and without any subsequent "necessary" side-trips involving the acquiring of strawberry milk, then Katsura, Gin, and the other Jouishishi members could simply maintain their presence under the radar once they escaped the warehouse district. The next step of the plan involved avoiding the Shinsengumi on their midday patrol through Kabuki-chou and the surrounding area of the city. After clearing _that_ minor obstacle, they'd be home-free.

"Calm down, would you? You're just upset that the convenience store was sold out of _Akamaru Jump_."

Gin stopped dead in his tracks.

"It's not '_Akamaru Jump_'! It's '_Jump_'! A _real_ man would know that anyway!"

Gin smirked, especially proud that he'd beaten Katsura at his own game.

Katsura twitched. He was forced to backtrack a few steps to close the distance between them, lest they be separated and eventually forced to abort the little operation. Then again, it was _possible_ that Katsura's thought process had developed into so many details, but his immediate objective seemed to be bringing Gintoki within range and fixing him with the iciest glare manageable under the circumstances. _Just because I required a bit of freelance assistance to reach the next stage of the New Dawn of Japan Plan—NDJP for short—doesn't mean I have be the butt of all the insults he can muster!_

"Gintoki. . .," Katsura whispered harshly.

"I bet it's your shampoo. What else could it be? Didn't your father ever tell you that prolonged exposure to flowers can turn men into women?!"

"_Gintoki!_" Zura hissed, seriously wondering if his companion intended to blow their cover. In fact, he was questioning his sanity for asking Gintoki to tag along in the first place. Little did Katsura know that Gin was contemplating the exact same dilemma, genuinely doubting that there weren't at least a few loose screws in either (or both) of their heads.

_I knew I should've gone easy on the sake last night. . ._, Gin lamented.

After half an hour of ducking around corners, skirting piles of crates, and leaping over pools of sludge, Katsura and Gintoki finally reached the gate of the entrance to Kabuki-chou. Utterly spent, drenched in sweat, and coated in back-alley grime, they threw caution to the wind and took their chances with the guard at the gate. Gin pitched a rock in the opposite direction, drawing the guard's attention, while he and Katsura seized the fleeting opportunity to sprint through the gate and to sweet freedom. Fortunately, the rendezvous outside a nearby convenience store went smoothly, and all things considered, Gin could at last breathe a sigh of relief.

"Never again, Zura," Gin insisted as they wandered back in the direction of the Yorozuya. He was chalking his voluntary involvement in Katsura's ploy up to the vast amount of sake he'd imbibed last night. Screw rational thought.

"It's not 'Zura'; it's 'Katsura'," Katsura chimed back rather lamely, feeling the exhaustion and heat beginning to take their toll. He turned to Gin, a slight smile playing at his lips. "I suppose I should thank you, though, Gintoki."

"Damn right you should," Gin grumbled crossly, also smiling faintly despite himself.

"Fine," Katsura huffed. "I honestly couldn't have done it without yo—"

Gin stopped abruptly, throwing his arm out to prevent Katsura from taking another step.

"Not so fast, Zura. We've got company."

For not more than twenty feet up the street, returning Gin and Katsura's narrowed stares with equally shocked expressions, were Hijikata and Okita of the Shinsengumi.

* * *

_Earlier that day. . ._

"Ugh, another boring day of patrol duty. . .and with you, no less," Okita griped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was obviously still miffed that Hijikata had rather rudely awoken him from his mid-morning nap. "And it's so _hot!_"

Okita turned to face Hijikata, his expression blank, as they strolled through the bustling streets of Kabuki-chou. The stagnant, oppressive heat shimmered off in the distance.

"Saa, Hijikata-san, wanna take a dip in the shark tank at the aquarium to cool off? I'll even let you jump in first."

Hijikata twitched visibly but managed to keep his temper in check by sheer force of will. Honestly, he could swear Kondou paired them together out of spite whenever they exceeded the acceptable quota of trouble and bickering. Even the normally unflappable Kondou had his limits.

Hijikata supposed that the fiasco last night at dinner had been the clincher. After Okita had mocked Hijikata's "abuse of mayonnaise" over the evening meal, Hijikata had sought just revenge by smothering Okita's rice in the thick white concoction. Okita had retaliated by snatching up a bottle of ketchup and squirting it not on Hijikata's rice, but on Hijikata himself. Their tactics resulted in an all-out war of mayo versus ketchup, with an unfortunate Kondou caught in the cross-fire. By the time Kondou had interfered and managed to wrestle his vice-commander and first squad captain apart from one another and their condiment ammo, the battle's three participants and the room itself were spattered and smeared with shades of white, red, and pink. Needless to say, Kondou's strained smile did not bode well.

Would you believe that the excuse, "Sougo started it," didn't seem to fly?

And so Hijikata and Okita found themselves in their current position, stuck out on the streets of Kabuki-chou in the miserable heat. Denying Okita's offer with a well-earned glare, Hijikata lit up a cigarette, allowing the familiar action to calm his nerves. Just when he'd managed to reconcile himself with the lousy day ahead, Okita's sharp words shattered even _that_ scrap of peace.

"Hijikata-san, terrorist at one o' clock."

The cigarette fell from Hijikata's mouth.

* * *

---

The Japanese phrases have been removed and replaced with English. See ya for chapter two!


	2. Sparks and Kerosene

I'm leaving on a trip tomorrow, so I wanted to get this posted before I left. . . Thanks for reading (and for waiting so long XD). Enjoy!

* * *

-Playing with Fire-

--**Sparks and Kerosene**--

__

"Not so fast, Zura. We've got company."

For not more than twenty feet up the street, returning Gin and Katsura's narrowed stares with equally shocked expressions, were Hijikata and Okita of the Shinsengumi.

-----

"Hijikata-san, terrorist at one o' clock."

The cigarette fell from Hijikata's mouth.

* * *

Needless to say, the situation quickly deteriorated.

"_Katsura!_ I've got you now!" Okita shouted, crazily skidding around another corner, trusty bazooka prepped and mounted over his shoulder.

Okita was merely the forerunner of a ragtag gang of Shinsengumi members hurtling down the streets of Kabuki-chou in hot pursuit of one Katsura Kotarou, the most prominent Jouishishi member and a wanted terrorist. Time and time again, the wily and rather clever (or simply lucky) Katsura had given them the slip, always managing to dash, jump, _nmaibo_, or parachute his way just out of bazooka range, forever one step ahead. Heaven knows how Katsura accomplished such feats as if they were second-nature, but he nevertheless had an amazing knack for employing cramped back alleys, little-known side streets, and even obscure rooftops to aid in his escape.

So the sadist in Okita had interpreted Katsura's frequent besting of the Shinsengumi as a challenge to their authority and ability—and nobody survived for long once Okita had his sights set securely on victory. Hijikata-san and that pesky China girl were the only two exceptions to the rule, though the ultimate conclusion of those particular battles had yet to be decided. _And we all know who'll win, now don't we?_ So, assuming the twisted initiative as usual, Okita had assumed the apprehension of Katsura as his personal objective. With that thought in mind, Okita's crimson eyes glinted menacingly as he quickened the pace. _Sorry, but there's no escape for you this time, Katsura. . ._

_And as for danna. . .?_ Okita's mind suddenly jarred his one-track monologue. There was no doubt that a certain silver-haired samurai had been in Katsura's rather incriminating company, and the law held that a citizen could be suspected of criminal activity simply for his association with a wanted man. In all honesty, Okita found the subsequent implications of such an accusation rather troubling.

Okita had harbored a great degree of respect for that man Gintoki ever since the samurai had grudgingly bested both Hijikata-san and Kondou-san in by the sword's edge, even _if_ his methods could be dubbed "unorthodox" at best. _Chalk it up to thinking outside the box—there's merit in that._

Furthermore, if Okita shoved aside his superficial, duty-imposed emotions, he couldn't deny that he, Hijikata-san, and Kondou-san—and hell, the whole Shinsengumi, for that matter—owed _danna_ a massive debt that was nigh on impossible to repay. In times of trouble; in their hour of betrayal; and during the days of a very painful, very _personal_ crisis, that man had fought alongside them like one of their own, offered support where no other could, and even risked his own life—yet never asked anything in return, save a little monetary compensation for his efforts. _Hah, he hasn't complained about the fact that we haven't actually paid him yet. . . _

In light of the current situation, Gintoki had somehow managed to maintain a scrap of _bushido_ as well as his irreverent independence, all despite crushing oppression under the grinding heel of a heavily Amanto-influenced government. He masked it well, though, beneath his entirely authentic, nonchalant, sugar-tinged personality. _Danna_ lived his own life, his own way, staking his purpose on the lives of those around him. And, deep down, Okita admired that.

_So what to do? _These questions and complexities bounced and ricocheted through Okita's head in rhythm with his pounding steps along the street. He doubted that a simple solution existed, and_ how on Earth was one to express those sentiments in the first place?_

_But now's not the time; keep your head clear!_ Ever since childhood, Okita had classed himself as the type to act first and ask questions later. His chosen course of action had always served him well, providing the necessary results, as solutions tended to reveal themselves when the time was right. So Okita resolved to press forward for the moment and secure the goal that now loomed tantalizingly close—namely, apprehending Katsura.

* * *

At the moment, trailing a few hundred feet behind Okita, Hijikata was dazedly setting the pace at the head of the main group of Shinsengumi. The exertion in such stagnant heat left him feverishly swiping sweat out of his eyes, barely able to keep Sougo in sight. The younger man persisted in zigzagging through, around, and—heaven help him—_over_ hawking street vendors and bewildered street-goers, all at startling speeds.

_This is all his fault in the first place! Stupid ketchup, stupid Sougo, stupid heat. . ._

As the colorful backdrop of Kabuki-chou burred past in his peripheral vision, Hijikata bitterly contemplated just how precariously deadly a place at the top of Sougo's hit list could be. When dealing with his targets, Sougo was shamelessly relentless in achieving his goals. _Katsura's catching some of the worst of it_—_and that's experience talking_, Hijikata muttered crossly_._ Occasionally—and only seldom, mind you—he found himself sympathizing with that terrorist Katsura, wondering if under different circumstances they might have commiserated over the existence of their mutual assassin—and simultaneously plotted some due revenge.

_But reality always comes knocking._ So the chase continued.

"I'm never. . .s-smoking. . .another--_cough!_--cigarette!" Hijikata panted. He swore lightly under his breath, temper fraying thin as he foresaw his afternoon yet again spent tailing Katsura in a fruitless wild goose chase. If anything, the rowdy, disorganized, miniature stampede of Shinsengumi members pushing and shoving their way through the city streets only served to further soil their reputation in the eyes of the general public. Hijikata sighed, knowing he'd later be held responsible for the entire raucous riot they were causing. _I just can't win. . .!_


End file.
